Too tired to sleep, right away Justin stripped out of his uniform and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He'd pieced together a picture last nigh... of unusual things about St. James's—the curriculum, the isolation, the fact that all the teachers seemed to be cut from the same mold. Every one of his teachers was an unmarried woman in her thirties or forties, stern and mostly humorless. Although it wasn't official, they seemed to wear a uniform of sorts to teach—starched, white or gray. Except they have no souls. Without souls, I'd think they'd get pretty boring after a while. Kind of like all those mind control stories on the net. I figure having sex with a controlled girl would be a lot like masturbation.Then there's Heaven with it's streets paved with gold. I mean, after the first hundred years, would you really care what the streets are paved with? Hell, after the first hundred minutes.Reincarnation could be cool unless I came back as a cockroach or a maggot or something.I. More

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